


One Last Decision

by TheLoneSurvivor



Series: Heroes, Legends, and Saviors [11]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: College of Winterhold - Freeform, Elder Scrolls - Freeform, Gen, High Hrothgar - Freeform, One-Shot, Post-Canon, Skyrim - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoneSurvivor/pseuds/TheLoneSurvivor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world has been saved from Alduin, Miraak and Lord Harkon. So many years have passed but the Dragonborn makes one final decision that will change his life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Decision

**Author's Note:**

> As time progresses I might add a few more things to this story and edit it.

Hair sprinkled with snow, he walked across the courtyard of the College of Winterhold and over to his quarters within the main building. The chill of the snow whirling around him pierced right through his robes and chilled his bones. No one was outside at the time, as it was around four hours before dawn. His eyes were dark from lack of sleep and he moved stiffly towards the lumbering doors of the college. Streaks of blood coated his robes, frozen into it from the cold.

He opened the massive doors slowly as they were difficult to open in his current state. Walking over to the door which lead to his quarters, the man glanced over towards the main room where him and Ancano had duelled previously. He sighed, remembering the day and wishing it had gone differently. The death of Savos Aren had tough for everyone, but him most of all. Savos was like the father the man never had.

He felt his eyes water from the thoughts that went through his mind and looked back towards the door. He opened the door silently but the stubborn door made a creaking noise regardless. The near frozen man walked up the stairs and looked at the room before him. A magnificent garden was in the centre and almost everything else he could need around the edges.

The bed was not far away and he was making his way there but it seemed so much farther away today than any other day. The plants in the garden looked like they needed to be harvested soon, something that he would have to do eventually, probably tomorrow. He disrobed soon after, feeling the cold seep even more into his skin. The man finally made it over to the bed and flopped onto it, sighing as he softness of the bed encouraged him to go to sleep. He obliged as fast as he could.

Morning was upon him when he awoke, his joints arguing against moving but he did so anyways. Fighting Alduin in Sovngarde had been tougher than he had imagined but fortunately he had had some extra help during the fight. There were faint scars left on him from the battle, healing magic just couldn't seem to get rid of them. The Dragonborn finally stood up, much to the dismay of his body, and got himself a bite to eat. Walking over to the cooking pit he began to smell the very faint smell of the stew he had made a few short days ago. He had used frost magic to preserve it a few days longer than it would've lasted without.

He glanced at the small woodpile just underneath the cooking pot and casted a simple flame spell to set it alight. A few minutes later the soup began to warm up and defrost, letting loose it's aroma to the surrounding area. After eating the meal the Dragonborn decided to go down to the main room and see what was going on there. He walked over to the doors and opened them, walked down the stairs and immediately heard another one of Tolfdir's lectures for some of the new students. In the distance he also heard what sounded to be Urag babbling on to a few of the students about the work of Shalidor. “...He is most remembered for his great maze of Labyrinthian, said to hold 'Glamoril', or the secret of life. While stories have persisted since the First Era, none have ever confirmed the existence of this 'Glamoril' or its purpose or function.”

“Ah, hello Arch-Mage!” Urag called out past his listeners. “Glad to see you have returned!”

“I am glad to have returned, too!” The Dragonborn replied.

Urag just nodded, “Err, where was I? Ahh, yes...” He continued on with the lecture.

The Dragonborn continued to walk towards Tolfdir, listening in on his lecture.

Tolfdir quickly glanced over to the Arch-Mage and gave him a small smile, “Ah, and here he is now.”

One of the students spoke up.“So he's the Arch-Mage?”

“Indeed I am,” The Dragonborn said proudly.

“And the Dragonborn.” Tolfdir added, which caused all the students eyes to go wide. He silently fingered the Dragonborn to approach, once he did, Tolfdir turned his back to the new students, the Arch-Mage did the same.

“So, Alduin is really dead?” Tolfdir asked, his voice now a whisper.

The Arch-Mage just as quietly replied, “Indeed. I spent a good seven days in Sovngarde.”

Tolfdir's eyes went wide. “But you've only been gone for three!” He exclaimed as silently as he could.

The Dragonborn let out a small but hearty chuckle, “Yes, it seems that time goes far slower here than there.” he said, still maintaining his whisper.

“Regardless, congratulations! It's not every day that someone defeats Alduin!”

This made the Dragonborn give a warm smile to Tolfdir. “Heh, yeah. But one question arises from that: What happens now?”

“Well, do what you always do! Go and delve into dangerous ruins to get perhaps anything of value, or search for any new spells.” Tolfdir chuckled, “Which reminds me, Skyrim seems to be having a vampire crisis right now, perhaps you should go and use your uncanny ability to not die and deal with it!”

A smirk made it's way onto the Dragonborn's face. “Fine, I guess I will.”

As he made his way away from Tolfdir, he looked at the new students and gave them a smile then shouted out, “Be good to them, Tolfdir!” as he just walked out of the main room.

“I will, don't you worry!” Tolfdir shouted back. “Be safe, Thorlof.” He prayed under his breath before continuing on with the lesson.

* * *

Sixteen years had passed and the Dragonborn had saved the world three times over. Once with Alduin, once with Lord Harkon and his group of vampires, and finally another time with Miraak: the first Dragonborn. And after all this “saving the world” type stuff, the Dragonborn just didn't want to do it anymore. He had saved the world more times than anyone else had, of that he was sure. He had nearly mastered all schools of magic, the exception being Alteration. It was never a school that interested him much either, which Tolfdir wasn't all the happiest about.

Finally something dawned on him; he hadn't seen the Greybeards for years. He decided to make one last journey there, up the seven thousand steps once again. He would finally see Master Arngeir again, same as Master Borri, Einarth, Paarthurnax, and Wulfgar. It would be nice to see them all again. He planned to leave almost immediately but something stopped him, the fact that he no longer was of much use to the College anymore. He had done everything they wanted him to do, and now that that was done he was no longer tasked to do anything really, it was all handed out to the students.

Thinking of this realization, the Dragonborn, Thorlof, then thought of his gift as being able to use the Thu'um. He then made his decision, he was to travel off to High Hrothgar and become a Greybeard himself. It would definitely surprise all the Masters, that much was certain. He had been their apprentice for years, ever since he got the horn of Jurgen Windcaller. He wanted to teach others of the Way of the Voice, and to use the power for the worship of the gods. He felt that he would have a better time getting students to High Hrothgar easier because almost everyone wanted to meet the Dragonborn.

He decided to leave in the morning and to make it there only a few short days later. He left a note on his bed stating:

_Hello Tolfdir,_

_I have come upon the realization that I am not of much use to the College anymore. All I do is sit in my room and practice spells and tell the rowdy students to knock it off. It is tiring and I don't want to deal with it anymore. Because of this I am leaving off to High Hrothgar and hopefully become a Greybeard. Once that is done I will travel between the two places, here and the Throat of the World. So don't worry, I won't be gone for forever. I will make monthly visits from there; stay there one month and then stay here one month. I will still retain my position as Arch-Mage unless you decide I will not be around enough for the title. If that is the case I pass my title to you. I hope you respect my decision and will not be angry with what I have done._

_See you in a few months. ~Thorlof_

He then packed up what supplies he would need on his journey and walked out of the room and into the main hall, he looked at it's splendour for the final time in a few months, and then walked out the door and into the frozen land of Winterhold.

The air nipped at his skin while he was walking, the sun was out and no clouds were around which only made things colder. He felt that if he breathed out once more his breath would freeze, but it never did. He walked out of the town he called, and still calls home. The walk was a long one, the sun was going down by the time he had made it out of the hold. The night wasn't much better than the day, it was actually even colder. Thorlof thanked his Nordic blood for him to be able to withstand the chill.

A few short days later he was out of the hold and was in Eastmarch. The place reeked of sulfur, but it wasn't too bad. Along the way he was taking in the scenery and then saw a young woman. She looked like she was only a few years away from full adulthood, and was in a hurry. Her golden hair followed her, floating in the breeze, she wore a pair of mud-stained boots, a small green tunic and a linen cloak. She had a shortsword on her belt and seemed to be of fine craftsmanship. Thorlof finally spoke up,

“What's the rush?”

The woman stopped dead in her tracks, “A pilgrimage of sorts, why do you ask and want to know?” Her voice was as beautiful as she was, but was filled with annoyance at the time.

“Just wondering. It's dangerous along these roads.” Thorlof said with concern in his voice.

“I can take care of myself, I've made it this far.”

Thorlof bit his bottom lip, this conversation wasn't going too well right now for him. “So, where's this 'pilgrimage' taking you?”

The young woman sighed, “To the Eldergleam, all I've heard is that it's here in Eastmarch but I don't know anything else about it's location.”

“Ahh, seeing that beauty eh? I know where it is, pull out your map and I'll mark out where it is.”

The woman's look of annoyance then changed to one of gratitude, a warm smile made it's way onto her face and said “Wow, thanks! That'll save me a few days of travelling.”

Thorlof chuckled slightly, “Anything to help out someone in need,”

“How do you know of where it is?”

“Oh, well I made the journey there myself a long time ago.”

“Oh really? How long ago.”

Thorlof paused: how long ago was it? He rattled his memory in search of a number to answer the question. He finally found one, “Around sixteen years ago.”

“Huh, how odd.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because when I talked to the priestess off in Whiterun she said that someone had helped restore the old tree in the Wind District about just that time ago.”

Thorlof sighed, “Yeah, I was the person who helped her.”

The woman's eyes went wide, “S-so your the Dr-Dragonborn?” she stumbled over her words trying to get them out.

“What makes you say that?”

“The priestess also said that the man who had helped turned out to be the Dragonborn.”

“Fine, I am indeed the Dragonborn, can I ask a name from you though?”

The woman looked like she was going to fall over, but kept her balance. She then paused at the question, like she wasn't supposed to tell others. But then gave him her name anyways, “Talia, my name is Talia.”

Thorlof nodded slightly, “Pleased to meet you, Talia”

“Pleased to meet you as well, Dragonborn.” She took a deep breath then asked, “Where are you going off to? Going to save the world again?” Her voice was filled with sarcasm, but with a hint of playfulness in it, too.

Thorlof chuckled at the second question. “I am going to High Hrothgar, I want to see the Greybeards again.”

Talia rolled her eyes, “There has to be more to it then that,”

“And why should I share it with you?” Thorlof spoke, his voice almost as playful as the woman's.

“Well you don't have to, but I'm intrigued by your answer.”

Thorlof sighed once more, looking at the stones in the road knowing that he wasn't going to be able to lie to her. “I am going to try and become a Greybeard.”

Talia cocked one eyebrow, “For what reason?”

“I want more to know of the Way of the Voice, the use of Thu'ums to worship the gods.”

“Oh, I see. Well, have fun climbing the seven thousand steps!” Thorlof wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or saying it in earnest.

“Heh, I'll try. Anyways I _do_ in fact have to go, the quicker I make it Ivarstead the better.”

“And I have to go and find the Eldergleam. Perhaps I will see you again, Dragonborn.”

“Please: call me Thorlof.” The Dragonborn said as he waved away the title.

Talia slightly pursed her lips. “Ok... Thorlof, I might be seeing you in the future.”

“That would be nice.”

They each started walking away from one another, with Talia on the road towards Windhelm and Thorlof to Ivarstead. _If only she was older..._ Thorlof said to himself, thinking of the beauty of the young woman he had just met.

The sun started going down as Thorlof was climbing up the huge cliffs that sheltered the Rift. He was out of breath every twenty minutes or so and would need to take a breather. _Damn, I'm really out of shape. Just imagine climbing the seven thousand steps._ That thought made Thorlof shudder, he was tired enough climbing this damned cliff, it would take him days to reach the top at this rate. But he kept climbing and by the time he made it up into the Rift, the sun was already down and stars started to show themselves in the sky. As the night kept progressing, Thorlof kept walking, until finally he saw the small town he was travelling to: Ivarstead. Only the guards and the drunks were out at this time, the drunks were just on the porch of the inn though, probably getting some fresh air and away from the smell of ale and mead in the building.

He walked past the drunken fools and into the inn. It was indeed filled with the smell of ale and mead, but was accompanied by the smell of fresh food, which made Thorlof realize how hungry he was. He walked over to the bartender and past the blazing fire in the centre of the structure, upon seeing the man walking up to the counter, the bartender said, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I just need a room for the night, a drink and some food.”

“We have some roasted venison and bread at the moment, we also have a nice potato and cabbage stew if you would like.”

“I will buy some venison and bread in the morning, the stew would be just fine.”

The bartender nodded. “As for drinks we have some ale, mead and a few different types of wine.”

“Which kinds are there?”

“We have Jasbay grape wine, Snowberry wine, and Juniper berry wine.”

“I'll take some Snowberry wine.”

“Alright, and is all that with a room?”

Thorlof nodded.

“So that comes to a total of twenty-four septims, please”

Thorlof just tossed him a small coin purse and said, “That should be enough for it all, and of what I am going to buy tomorrow.”

The bartender just nodded and pointed to a door at the western corner of the inn. “Enjoy your stay,”

“I'll try,” Was all that Thorlof said for the night. He got right into the bed after eating his fair share of stew and was out almost instantly.

* * *

It was late day now and Thorlof was almost to the top of the Throat of the World. The wind now biting into him, right through his robes. The journey was far longer than he thought, many of the mountain's residents had come out to kill the Dragonborn only to end in their deaths. He was so close to High Hrothgar, but it seemed like he was still miles away. But eventually he saw the towering building, caked in snow. He made his way up the steps and through the large metal doors. As soon as he opened the door a wave of heat hit him, warming him up from the chill of outside: it was soothing and refreshing.

Master Arngeir was on his knees praying in the middle of massive room. At the sound of the doors opening he opened his weary eyes, “Who is it?” He called out while slowly standing up to meet the visitor.

“Your apprentice, Master Arngeir.” Called out an all too familiar voice.

As he walked his way over to the lumbering doors he saw a face that looked far more aged than he had expected. “Dovahkiin, it's been too long!” He said as he pulled Thorlof into a weak hug.

“Good to see you too, Master.” He sighed, his arms still wrapped around the aged man's shoulders. Arngeir finally released him and Thorlof did the same.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were the Arch-Mage of the college in Winterhold.”

“I was and still am, I came here for a very special reason.”

“And that reason is...?”

“I wish to learn the Way of the Voice.”

Arngeir's eyes widened, “What for? You do not have to follow the path we have chosen, you do not have to use the Thu'um for worship.”

“I know, but I want to. And I think that if the almighty Dragonborn was up here in High Hrothgar, people would be inclined to learn the way, too. It is not something that should be forgotten.”

Arngeir sighed, “Well, we _do_ need some more apprentices.”

“So what do you say? Can I learn the Way of the Voice?”

“Of course you can! I wouldn't be a very good Master if I denied that eh?”

Thorlof nodded.

A large smile was on the elder's face now, “We still have your bed ready for use, we kept it here for the occasion when you returned.”

Thorlof bowed respectively to Arngeir and said, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” was all Arngeir managed to say before Thorlof spoke up once more.

“So when will I begin to study the way?”

“Whenever you feel that you want to.”

“Alright, I think I will in the next two days, I want to see Paarthurnax again.”

“He has indeed missed you like the others and I have.”

Thorlof had a wide smile on his face, “I am lucky to have such great people as friends.” He said more to himself than Arngeir.

“Oh also, I will be leaving in a few months back to the College and stay there for a month and then return and so on.” He called out.

“Fine by me!” Arngeir called out as well, hearing his voice echo through the grand space of the room.

* * *

Thorlof _did_ in fact end up meeting Talia again, this time though she was a few years older but still very beautiful. She had arrived to the temple a while back and wished to learn the way. She spent many years there, learning how to shout from Thorlof himself. Others who wished to learn the way also came, but most were handed off to Arngeir so he could teach them. Thorlof still kept his title as Arch-Mage at the college and still made his monthly visit to stay there for that month and then return to High Hrothgar.

It was a life that Thorlof thought couldn't get much better. He had a quiet space to call home, he kept a tradition alive, he had saved the world a total of three times and was adored by many in the college and most places in Skyrim. Talia eventually left, she promised to use the voice only to worship the gods unless in great need. Thorlof was fine with that, he personally still used the Thu'um very often, but different rules applied to him.

Around this time natives of the Reach called 'The Forsworn' had begun to rise up and attack and pillage places all over Skyrim. But Thorlof didn't notice it until far later, once they had stretched to Eastmarch. He never went to save the world again though, he decided to leave that task to someone else. And that someone turned out to be the young woman Thorlof had conversed with so many years ago for the first time.


End file.
